When it has you,
Nothing is real
And reality is too much to face.
Everything becomes a struggle
And nothing pushes you to really live.
A tear is not sadness.
It is only a release.
It clears you and frees you.
A tear is, in truth, happiness waiting to fall.
The real sadness cannot be truly seen.
No matter ow twisted a face becomes.
You feel it like a sinking heat in your core.
A pull on your chin towards the hell at your feet.
When it takes you
The dead can only thuroughly explain.
However, we - with the condition - can say something of the ledge.
The place right before THE place it takes you.
Your suddenly far too aware.
Your insight suddenly sees too far in.
A wise man once said, 'If you stare into the abysse for long, eventually the abysse stares back into you.'
We - with the condition - stare down the abysse too fearlessly.
Without a care of death outside reality.
At the ledge we tend to indulge.
Creatures who feedon dark feelings - fascinated with them.
Only some can purge them temporarily.
But none can fight off the demon for good.
The condition doesnt die until you do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.